


give your tears to the tide

by WonderTwinC



Series: there is no goodbye [2]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 17:37:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5594980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WonderTwinC/pseuds/WonderTwinC
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She wanted revenge. [alternate universe/canon divergence 4x09. Laurel/Felicity. Contains references from the newly released trailer for 4x10.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	give your tears to the tide

“We’re losing her-” the words echoed in Laurel’s head as she stood just inside the swinging doors, watching as  a team of doctors started prepping Felicity for surgery. Everything was moving too fast for her shell shocked mind to keep up. One minute they’d been deliriously happy and then the next she was cradling Felicity’s broken body to her chest, pleading desperately for her to wake up as she dialed 911 with trembling, blood soaked fingers.

And now they were here - and she didn’t know what to do. There wasn’t anything she could do.

She hadn’t felt this helpless since watching her sister tumble to her death almost two years ago and knowing before Sara even hit the ground that everything was over.

“Miss Lance-” her eyes trailed over Felicity’s pale face, the blood smeared across her cheeks and forehead, staining her beautiful blonde hair. Her heart skipped a long, painful beat inside her chest as Laurel wondered just how much more she could survive in this lifetime.

First it was Sara and Oliver, and then Tommy - and then Sara again and now…

How was she supposed to live without the one person she wanted and needed to live?

A hand against her arm startled Laurel back to the present. The sound of various machines beeping and voices mingling together was almost too overwhelming.

“Miss Lance-” a nurse half her height squeezed her arm. The sympathetic look on her face made Laurel’s stomach churn. “You have to wait outside now.”

—-

“What do you think you’re doing?” John stood at the bottom of the stairs, arms crossed against his chest as Laurel secured the finale zipper on her suit. The leather felt tight and constricting for the first time in a very long time.

It was both reassuring and terrifying.

“Darkh is in the wind. The longer he’s there the harder he’s going to be to catch,” she replied, reaching into the small box at her side to pull out her choker. She slipped it around her neck with a familiar ease, fitting it into place against her vocal cords as John gave her a look she’d seen him give to Oliver about a thousand times.

Frustration. Concern.

_Fear._

“Laurel-”

“This is what I can do for Felicity,” she fingered her mask, tracing the eye holes delicately. The same way Felicity trailed her fingers over them whenever she was suited up just before they kissed. “I have to do this, John,” Laurel whispered, glancing up at him from where she stood. “I have to do this for her.”

The tension in his shoulders eased as he dropped his arms, exhaling slowly. He met her gaze head on.

_Trust._

“You should know that whatever your play is, I’ve got your back.”

It was enough to bring a small smile to her face. “We haven’t let each other down yet,” she acknowledged softly.

Her mask fit into place like it always did.

Naturally.

—

Thea was waiting when she arrived back at base, ringing her hands together in front of her body. Laurel felt her throat tighten at the expression on the younger girl’s face.

“Felicity’s mother called,” Thea whispered, her fingers tightening around one another as she exhaled softly. “She’s out of surgery, but…”

“But what?”

Thea shifted her weight, her expression tight. “… something happened. She didn’t… she wouldn’t say what it was.”

Laurel’s mask slipped from her fingers.

—

She couldn’t breathe.

Donna Smoak was still speaking, still saying something, but the words were nothing more than a dull buzzing in Laurel’s ears. Her legs trembled beneath her, threatening to give way as her lungs burned from lack of oxygen.

Her throat felt too tight. Her chest ached. She wanted to scream. She wanted to fight.

She wanted to see Felicity’s ridiculous, smiling face.

“Sweetheart,” warm, steady hands settled against her shoulders, turning her slowly. Her father’s familiar face filled her line of sight.  “Baby, you gotta breathe,” he instructed, his voice soft but firm.

Her face felt too warm. The world was spinning. She couldn’t-

“Laurel,” the hands against her shoulders moved up, cupping her face gently. Her vision blurred.

_She was crying._

Laurel inhaled deeply, her lungs expanding and the pain in her chest easing as her father wrapped his arms around her, one hand moving to cradle the back of her head. She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed, each breath a little quicker than the last as she let the tears fall.

“Daddy-”

“I know, baby, I know,” he pressed a kiss to the top of her head, glancing over the top of her head to see Donna Smoak sitting in an uncomfortable hospital chair, watching them with tears in her eyes. Quentin squeezed Laurel a little tighter.

—

She kneeled in front of the grave, tracing her fingers over the letters with care. Thea and John stood at her shoulders, one on each side. His arms were crossed against his chest while Thea’s hung loosely against her sides.

The same rage she’d felt at Sara’s death prickled beneath her skin, the same emptiness from Tommy’s… but she didn’t feel thirsty. She didn’t feel like getting lost at the bottom of a bottle or exhausting herself at the gym.

What she wanted tasted bitter in her mouth, unfamiliar and sharp, but Laurel recognized it for what it was.

“I’m going to kill him,” she whispered, staring at the name forever immortalized in stone.

It was revenge.

—

Laurel slammed the GHOST against the edge of the rooftop, her arm trembling as she pinned them there. “Where is he?!” she asked, voice low and rough and all sharp edges. When there was no response she shook him once for good measure, making sure his back hit mostly open air as she growled, “Where is Damien Darhk?!” The silence that stretched after her question settled like fire in her veins, burning her alive from the inside out as she flexed her fingers against the front of the GHOST’s vest.

She tried to count herself down from the ledge she felt she was approaching but with every number all she could see was Felicity’s face, pale and smeared with blood - unresponsive.

Lifeless.

Her scream of frustration triggered the device at her neck - car windows shattering into a million pieces in the street below as she flung the GHOST from the top of the roof with all her strength. She was already halfway across to the roof when she heard the impact, the thud of a body landing harshly on top of a car. She felt both sick and satisfied with herself at the sound, but the relief was only temporary.

Everything was only temporary until she laid waste to Darhk and his HIVE.


End file.
